|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 52
"Surely, father, you do not wish this?" asked Mary. "I thought you--"
But the elder was fretful.
"Let me eat my meal in peace," he answered. "I am not made of
iron, and reason cuts both ways. It was reasonable to deny Mr. May
before these events. It would be unreasonable to pretend that the
death of Peter Hardcastle has not changed my opinions. To cleave
to the possibility of a physical explanation any longer is mere
folly and obstinacy. I believe him to be right."
"This is fearful for me--and fearful for everybody here. Don't
you see what it would mean if anything happened to you, Mr. May?
Even supposing there is a spirit hidden in the Grey Room with power
and permission to destroy us--why, that being so, are you any
safer than dear Tom was or this poor man?"
"Because I am armed, Mary, and they were defenseless. Unhappily
youth is seldom clothed in the whole armor of righteousness. My
dear son was a good and honorable man, but he was not a religious
man. He had yet to learn the incomparable and vital value of the
practice of Christian faith. Hardcastle invited his own doom. He
admitted--he even appeared to pride himself upon a crude and pagan
rationalism. It is not surprising that such a man should be called
away to learn the lessons of which he stood so gravely in need."
"I know that our dear Tom was bidden to higher work--to labor in
a higher cause than here, to purer knowledge of those things that
matter most to the human soul," said Mary. "But that is not to
say God chose to take him by a miracle. For what you believe
amounts to a miracle. You know that I am bearing my loss in the
same spirit as yourself, but, granted it had to be at God's will,
that is no reason why we should suppose the means employed were
outside nature."
"How can you pretend they are inside nature, as we know it?" asked
her father.
"We know nothing at all yet, and I implore Mr. May to wait until
we are at least assured that science cannot find a reason."
"Fear not for me, my child," answered Septimus May. "You forget
certain details that have assisted to decide me. Remember that
Hardcastle had openly denied and derided the possibility of
supernatural peril. He had challenged this potent thing not an
hour before he was brought face to face with it. Tom went to his
death innocently; this man cannot be absolved so easily. In my
case, with my knowledge and faith, the conditions are very
different, and I oppose an impregnable barrier between myself and
the secret being. I am an old priest, and I go knowing the nature
of my task. My weapons are such that a good spirit would applaud
them and an evil spirit be powerless against them. Do you not see
that the Almighty could never permit one of His creatures--for
even the devils also are His--to defeat His own minister or
trample on the name of Christ? It would amount to that. So armed
one might walk in safety through the lowermost hell, for hell can
only believe and tremble before the truth."
Mary looked hopelessly at her father; but he offered her small
comfort. Sir Walter still found himself conforming to the fierce
piety and dogmatic assurance of the man of God. In this welter
and upheaval his modest intellect found only a foothold here, and
his judgment now firmly inclined to the confident assertions of
religion. He was himself a devout and conventional believer, and
he turned to the support of faith, and shared, with increasing
conviction, the opinion of Septimus May, as uttered in a volume of
confident words. He became blind to the physical danger. He even
showed a measure of annoyance at Mary's obstinate entreaties. She
strove to calm him, and told him he was not himself--an assertion
that, by his inner consciousness of its truth, seemed to incense
Sir Walter.
He begged her to be silent, and declared that her remarks savored
of irreverence. Startled and bewildered by such a criticism, the
woman was indeed silent for some time, while her father-in-law
flowed on and uttered his conviction. Yet not all his intensity
and asseverations could justify such extravagant assertion. At
another time they might even have amused Mary; but in sight of the
fact that her father was yielding, and that the end of the argument
would mean the clergyman in the Grey Room, she could win nothing
but frantic anxiety from the situation. Sir Walter was broken; he
had lost his hold on reality, and she realized that. His unsettled
intelligence had gone over to the opposition, and there was none,
as it seemed, to argue on her side.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|